life--exempt from public haunt,
Finds tongues in trees, books in running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in everything."

We next visited San Jose, one of the most romantically, beautiful towns in
California, which would require the subtle gift of genius, a touch of
poetic fire, and, above all, the fullness and richness of descriptive
power, to enable me to give any adequate conception of its charms. It was
almost a fairy realm, with its fields of waving grain, then golden with
the glow of the harvest season; trees laden with fruitage, and vineyards
drooping with their ripe, purple clusters.

One of the prominent attractions of the place was the residence of General
Negley, nestling in the centre of extended grounds, combining the richly,
blending beauties of nature and art. Groves and streams, rustic bridges
and flowing fountains, shrubby labyrinths and flowery dells, were grouped
in happiest harmony. Received by the General with the genial hospitality
which should characterize the presiding spirit of such an Eden, dispensing
itself in so many pleasant ways, we were led from house to garden, and
from vineyard to wine press, where all were temptingly lured to taste the
freshly pressed grape juice.

It was a novel sight to those accustomed only to white or negro labor, to
see the efficient corps of Chinese employees who had proven themselves
such valuable servants. It is with some degree of trepidation that I
follow a desire which impels me to describe a bunch of grapes I saw in
this vineyard. I must beg my readers to free me from any taint of the
spirit of the renowned Baron Munchausen, whose intensely magnifying vision
threw its impress upon all objects, but, without the faintest degree of
exaggeration, I can say, that while I am no Lilliputian in size, I stood,
holding with great difficulty, the weight of a single bunch of grapes in
my extended hand, while the other end of it rested upon the ground, nor
would I dare to tell this grape story unless many of my readers were
familiar with the mammoth fruits of California.

After this delightful visit we took the horse car to Santa Clara, and
certainly the world cannot boast of a public route so redolent with beauty
as this. Both sides of the road are shaded with trees of almost a
century's growth; for this "Alameda" was planted by the Jesuit Fathers in
1799. These left the vines and olives of their native Spain, and planted
upon the soil of their new hom